World Enough and Time
by HARPG0
Summary: When Wolfram takes a load of Yuuri's sports memorabilia to a storage room within the castle, he discovers something quite unexpected. Yuuri X Wolfram


World Enough and Time

.

Wolfram had his arms full of Yuuri's stuff that he was moving to one of the old storage rooms because he'd had enough of seeing baseball cards, old sports magazines, dirty cleats, and posters with frayed edges lying under the bed. If his accidental fiancé was going to keep this junk, it would be best to put it all in a trunk with, preferably, the key thrown away.

Yes, that was the plan.

It was more awkward than heavy. Wolfram had managed to get to the stairs leading downward when he heard Yuuri speaking to Murata in a chummy tone. The voices were not that distant, which made Wolfram want to hurry before getting caught. One of the passing guards smiled at Wolfram but kept going—minding his own business.

The blond hustled a few steps but then heard Yuuri. "I'm starting to wonder what Wolfram's up to. I haven't seen him around."

The sage snickered a little bit. "So, you care?"

There was a short pause before a flustered, "No, of course not," met Wolfram's ears and he could feel an ache in his heart as he quickly made his way down the stairs.

His own fiancé didn't want him. But, he'd known that for awhile.

Balancing the box in one hand, Wolfram took the key that his mother loaned him and placed it into the lock. It turned with a groan and there was a cobweb covering the door which stretched as he opened it.

The blond coughed as he searched for a wall sconce. It took awhile for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but once he found what he was looking for, he snapped his fingers and the room came to life—such as it was.

He frowned. "Everything in here is useless."

There was no window to speak of or any other door for that matter. The room was cluttered with trunks and boxes from ages past. There was a floral couch that Wolfram's mother bought two years ago and then suddenly decided that she didn't want. Putting down the box of sports goods, Wolfram glanced at the couch only to notice purple wine stains on the arms of the couch and red lipstick smeared on the matching pillows. Wolfram shook his head at that.

"Free love," he muttered distastefully.

At the far corner of the room, Wolfram noticed something rather large covered in a wide, dusty tapestry depicting Shinou's founding of Blood Pledge Castle.

"Strange…"

He pulled it off only to find an enormous, round beveled edged mirror affixed to an antique frame studded with what appeared to be smoky quartz. Wolfram thought it tacky as the wood frame extended out and incorporated a cot with a velvet covered mattress. Wolfram pulled the rest of the tapestries from the wood-framed cot with a wrinkled nose at the rising dust.

_Ugly and faded_, he thought_. I can see why this tacky piece of furniture is down here._

He kicked the pile of tapestries on the floor. More dust floated up in a cloud.

Wolfram pulled out a handkerchief and waved the air only to have…

"Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!"

Sneezing fits.

Teary-eyed, Wolfram put his handkerchief to his face and sat down—wiping his nose and then his eyes.

"Getting, the Hell, out of here…" He promised when the door opened wide and Yuuri entered with Murata.

"Oi, Wolfram," the double black said cheerily, "a guard said you were down here. Why is that?" Then, his eyes fell to the box of _his stuff_. And, it dawned on him. What a rat Wolfram was! His sports memorabilia was perfectly good.

"Oi!" He said with irritation, "This is mine! You have no right to take this stuff."

Murata stood behind the young king and smirked openly. This was a good show. He wondered how long it would last this time. And, as the Great Sage of Shin Makoku, he was rarely treated to such high drama back at the temple.

Wolfram, feeling cornered, barked, "I'm your fiancé, for now, so I can do whatever I want!"

It was the "for now" part that made Yuuri hesitate—taking some of the anger out of him as he did so. Wolfram had been adding that "for now" part for a couple of weeks. He knew that something had changed between them. He wasn't sure of exactly when—the specific day—but something had changed and he felt it even when they slept in the same bed together. A kind of isolation.

In Wolfram's mind, he replayed the overheard conversation with Murata:

"So, you care?"

"No, of course not…"

Green eyes grew pained. "Of course not" he rasped darkly under his breath. Then, he lifted his chin and said to Yuuri, "If you're going to be like that, then…" His bare hand slipped down to the velvet cot he was sitting on and he took a sudden, sharp intake of breath before collapsing.

"Wolfram!"

"Lord von Bielefeld!"

The smoky rose quartz lit up in procession starting from the far left to the far right. Brightening and fading almost as a wave by the end of it. Yuuri and Murata took a step backwards.

The mirror darkened.

"Oh, I know what this is!" Murata said, now hammering the pieces together in his mind. He'd lived through so many reincarnations that, sometimes, it was hard to recall something from eons past. "This is the Mirror of Temsik. I should have realized it when I noticed the bed connected to the mirror." He shook his head. "This should have been placed in the Treasure Room and put under guard."

"Why?" Yuuri asked innocently, turning back to Wolfram who was half lying on the bed, his feet draped over the side.

From the blackened mirror, voices came. Yuuri easily recognized his own and Murata's:

"What are you going to do about Lord von Bielefeld, Shibuya? Eventually, he'll find out about your girlfriend."

"He doesn't need to know."

The double black king turned to his friend, shaking his head. "Murata, I…"

Then, the mirror brightened and it was Wolfram standing in front of Shori. Yuuri noted that his brother looked incredibly angry. The setting seemed to be a hallway somewhere in Blood Pledge Castle.

"The wedding's in an hour. You'd better not mess this up for my little brother." The glare that he gave Wolfram was matched by the small fire wielder.

"Who said I was going to interfere with His Majesty's wedding?"

Shori leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "The whole country knows how your USELESS engagement with my brother ended. So, just don't get any ideas in your head."

"_What?_"

Shori smiled evilly and went on with, "He never loved you and he never wanted you. And why you're even here in this castle is still a mystery to me. If you want my advice, leave while he's on his honeymoon enjoying his new wife, Catherine."

Yuuri stood before the mirror, astonished. "Murata? What's going on here?"

The mirror flashed a new image. Wolfram was in his old bedroom, packing up his things. He put his pen set and parchment in a small trunk with other knickknacks. In a larger trunk, his clothes and highly polished boots went in. In one drawer, he discovered an envelope of photos of himself and Yuuri—taken at Yuuri's house. Everyone was dressed for Christmas. In one picture, there was mistletoe hanging above them and Yuuri was smiling uncomfortably, begging to be set loose from Wolfram's grip on his shoulder.

Wolfram dumped the pile on the desk, going through them one last time. He picked up one photo—his favorite, of Yuuri in the red Santa hat—and seemed as though he would take it with him. Then, the picture tumbled from his fingers. He put a hand to his eyes, covering them. "I have to leave old photos behind." He sighed. "I've been left behind."

The scene changed again. This time, Wolfram appeared to be older. He was even more beautiful than he was back in his 80's. As an adult, Wolfram's body had filled out—not quite the size of his older brothers, but close enough. His hair was still bright and shiny, tied back with a light blue silken thread. The face was beautiful with the exception of a jagged scar on his left cheek.

"Papa!"

"Papa!"

Two blond toddlers burst into the study, making Wolfram put down his quill with a thin smile. Little feet padded on the floor. "Papa!" They were followed by a tall, blond woman with blue eyes and a simple, floor length dress which matched it. Her platinum hair, piled up on her head, was in an elaborate bun.

"Is it time for night-nights?" the nanny said, poking her head into the room. The children pouted until Wolfram kissed each one on the temple and waved benevolently as they left with the old woman.

"Dear, what are you doing?" the woman asked as she rounded the mahogany desk. She peered at the parchment before Wolfram could stop her. "What? You're writing Yuuri Heika… _again_?"

A shadow of guilt crossed Wolfram's face and he muttered, "Just informing him of the latest…"

"_W-h-y?_" she groaned, exasperated. She took the chair to his right and slouched down into it. "Why do you bother with him after all this time?"

Wolfram opened his mouth and then closed it.

"You got that scar because of him," she pointed out. "You've sent him countless men, materials, and tribute." She tilted her head sideways to see his face better and added sincerely, "He doesn't care about you…deep down. No one is that oblivious to someone's feelings." And then she chuckled a little bitterly to herself.

Wolfram glanced at her. "You knew…when you married me…"

She nodded. "I remember…" She crossed her arms against her chest, trying to keep herself from shaking. "I remember you asking if I could stand being married to a man whose heart belonged to someone else…" Absently, she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "That I would always be second place in your heart."

Wolfram nodded to that again.

With a pained expression his wife relented. "And I told you that I was fine with it…" She pushed her shoulders back a little. "And I'm still fine with it," she lied.

After a moment, Wolfram could only say, "Sorry."

"Isn't that Yuuri Heika's favorite word to you?"

With his head bowed a little, he picked up the quill and began writing again. "It is."

Standing before the mirror, Yuuri's heart ached for the sleeping Wolfram. If this was Wolfram's timeline from here, his life would not go smoothly. His heart would simply never let him. Worse yet, Yuuri realized that he had, in this future, moved on in life—gladly continued without Wolfram at his side.

The mirror brightened again and Yuuri could feel his stomach drop. He wanted to say "no more" but the images returned. There was smoke and fire belching out the windows of the pristine von Bielefeld Castle. A horrible crackling sound came as servants, set aflame, were running from the ruins only to be cut down by the invaders.

On his white horse, Wolfram was arriving with every man at his disposal. The mirror showed hundreds of Bielefeld men riding behind the blond lord, banners waving.

"What?" His green eyes impossibly wide. He jumped from the steed and took off at a run for the castle, sword drawn.

"My children are in there! Elric! Emma!" He kept running and shouted for his wife. "Constance! Where are you?"

The von Bielefeld soldiers and private guard troops spread out. They quickly found the enemy combatants—all from the human lands.

Something caught his eye. Wolfram signaled his second in command to attack the human invaders wearing black and white armbands while Wolfram and his private guards fought their way into the smoking castle.

The court yard and the grounds were filled with combatants, swords clashing and elements being wielded. Esoteric stones sharpened into spears were thrown by the humans and arrows, made of similar stuff, rained down.

From within the castle, Wolfram screamed in rage and the images went dark all over again.

Yuuri wrapped his arms around himself and whispered Wolfram's name to himself as the mirror brightened again. _Please…no more_. He didn't want to go through this any longer.

Standing alone in Bielefeld Cemetery was Wolfram in his dress uniform of the von Bielefeld Army. His eyes were red and he had circles under them. His skin was pale and there were bright burnt marks on his neck and hands. And he had the mien of a man who had simply lost everything. He closed his eyes briefly, giving the feeling that this could not get any worse until…

"Wolfram?"

Standing before the mirror, Yuuri could see himself—an older version of himself-approaching, hand in hand, with a woman with blond hair with dark brown streaks in it. Before Wolfram could speak a word, Yuuri had released her hand and come to him, hugging his shoulders and bringing him close. "I'm so sorry, Wolfram," Yuuri half-whispered. "So…So sorry…"

Eyes distant, Wolfram allowed the embrace but did nothing to reciprocate.

"I know things look bad…But we are in negotiations with the humans now and they promise not to cross the border again. Apparently, it was a preemptive strike on their part based on misinformation from a third party. So, you can see, we are doing something."

Pushing their bodies away a little bit, Wolfram looked at Yuuri as though seeing him for the first time. "You know, my wife always hated you."

"Eh?" Yuuri seemed startled. This was not what he expected to hear. He let go of Wolfram and took a step back.

"She always talked about the fact that, even after all of these years, I still put you first." He smiled resentfully. "On the day that the castle was invaded and torched, I was out on an errand to make your latest negotiations with the humans easier…as a favor to you."

Wolfram stepped to his wife's grave and touched the cold stone. "She told me 'not to go.' Those were her last words."

Yuuri looked down at his feet. "Wolfram."

"She loved me, Yuuri. It was a one-sided love, but I always noticed it…knew it." His eyes drifted to the past. "The way you always knew that I loved you." He smudged a tear from his eye with the heel of his hand. "The difference was that I married her…gave her hope…what a cruel thing I did to her." He looked to Yuuri again. "But you never did that to me…never loved me…never gave me an ounce of hope…always ignored my feelings with the expectation that I would just lose interest."

Wolfram placed his finger to his lips and then touched the gravestones of his children.

A final kiss goodnight.

"I'm the worst."

The mirror faded to black.

Yuuri stood before the mirror, shaking. "This can't be Wolfram's future. It just can't be."

Murata's glasses flashed. Then, he pushed them up on his face with his knuckle. "Not everyone can have a happy ending, Shibuya. In fact, most people don't."

The double black turned to him. "But, it's not…" And then the mirror brightened again.

Wolfram was in a smoke-damaged room that appeared to have once been a chapel. There was very little left except burned remnants of pews, holy books, and railings. A stained glass image of Shinou in his regalia was half covered in soot and the colorful glass, melted.

Wolfram, his face peaceful—highlighted by the white suit of clothes he was wearing—smiled kindly down at a highly polished, jewel encrusted short sword. He withdrew it in a long, shimmering sound of metal.

He grasped, with both hands, the hilt.

And, then, Murata realized what he was seeing. "Shibuya, no!" Murata approached Yuuri from behind, turned him around, and hugged him—holding his head in place with one hand. "Don't watch! Don't see this!"

"Let go, Murata!" Yuuri shouted into his chest. "Stop it!"

The Wolfram in the mirror cried out in agony and then there was the unmistakable sound of a body collapsing to the floor.

Yuuri pushed and clawed Murata away, determined. "What is it that…?" Even though he knew.

The Wolfram in the mirror was lying on his side, eyes open but sightless, in a widening pool of his own blood—the sword still thrust in him.

Yuuri sobbed Wolfram's name. He shook his head in dismay. "Why did he do that to himself? I don't understand." He grabbed Murata's coat and dug his nails in. Pulled. "There was no dishonor in the castle burning. He wasn't responsible. He did the best he could…and…"

Calmly, the young sage took Yuuri's fingers from his jacket and freed them. He placed an arm around his friend. "Do you really want an answer to that?"

"Yes," was the only word he could say.

Murata gave a small hug and explained, "He was atoning for his mistakes…for making your life difficult…for never really finding it within his heart to let go of you…for making his wife second place…and for the loss of the castle and his children." Murata smiled sadly at the darkening screen. "He just couldn't go on."

Yuuri turned to the sleeping Wolfram on the cot. He seemed dead, like the image in the mirror.

"I can't let this happen." He turned to Murata. "I won't let this future take place."

Murata sighed openly. "We both know you don't love him, Shibuya. And I think it is best you tell him now…rather than later."

"No." He shook his head.

"You really should."

Yuuri blushed a little and said, "Truth is…I kind of… I mean, I really do, but…"

Murata frowned. "The images in the mirror are pressuring you into this. Just forget them. As they say, 'The future is something not written' and all that." While the words sounded reassuring, the tone was weak and unconvincing.

Yuuri disregarded those words and reached out a hand to Wolfram instead. "Up, Wolf… Come on, get up." He shook the blond's shoulder.

Green eyes opened, much to Yuuri's relief. "What's up…wimp?" Then, he put a hand to his head. "Whoa… It feels like I've got a hangover or something… What happened?"

Murata straightened up and said, "Shibuya was throwing a fit because you had his sports gear in that box and you were hiding it in here. Then, you just fell asleep."

Wolfram rubbed his aching head. "I…uh…suppose so."

"Wolf?" Yuuri said, kneeling down to see the blond better. Was he really okay?

The blond scowled. "I'm fine. I just had some nightmares. That's all. Don't baby me." He got to his feet but wobbled a bit until Yuuri caught him.

"I…uh…" Wolfram turned his face away, forcing his beating heart to calm down. This was the same concern that Yuuri would show anybody.

He wasn't special and he knew it.

"Yuuri," Wolfram said, disentangling himself from the double black, "I've been thinking…" His eyes caught onto the box. "Maybe, it's best to give this back to you." He handed the box of sports memorabilia back to Yuuri. That would keep him busy. And, along the lines of "busy"… "Maybe, it would be best for me to take a little trip…on my own… alone…to think things over." Casually, he put his hands in his pockets. "After my studies, I never went on the Grand Tour of Shin Makoku. And I really should have. It, probably, would have been fun. And, after that…" Wolfram chewed on his lower lip a little, collecting his thoughts for what he was going to say next. "I might be moving to Bielefeld Castle…for a few months…" He smiled wryly. "You know…a bit of a break."

Black eyes narrowed at that. "Exactly who is getting this 'break'…me or you?"

Wolfram couldn't deny it. "You, actually."

Yuuri frowned at that. "So, you decided to have this adventure all by yourself? Without asking your king?" Oh, yes. He'd drag the "kingly" aspect out. He was peeved.

The blond stared at him in confusion but he had caught the hint anyway. "Go with me? Just the two of us? No way. Big Brother would never go for that. And, then, the next thing you know we've got Conrad shadowing us and Greta, our daughter, demanding to come along. And, before you know it, half the castle is coming, too!"

Yuuri fought back a smile. Wolfram was probably right.

"But, Wolf, I thought we could spend a little time together. Just us, you know, along the way." He was enthusiastic about it now.

Wolfram wanted to say "no" because he was, just now, getting the strength to leave Yuuri behind and to move on in life. It was time to let go of childish things and, maybe, find someone else to love—someone else who would want him. Maybe. But staying in the castle with Yuuri would never accomplish this. Leaving was good. In fact, it's what would be best for both of them.

"Yuuri, I don't think it's a good idea."

"Of course, it is," Yuuri brightened as he tossed the box of sports stuff down onto the floor—much to Wolfram's astonishment. And an astonished Wolfram was a cute Wolfram.

The double black linked arms with him and they strolled out the door. "You know, Wolf, I've never been on The Grand Tour of Shin Makoku, but Günter says that every young Mazoku needs to do that at least once in his life. So, let's go back to our room and make plans."

"Our…room?" Wolfram parroted dumbly.

Yuuri's voice echoed back at Murata. "Well, do you want to plan somewhere else?"

"N-No, that's fine…"

Alone, Murata now stood before The Mirror of Temsik. "You really do belong in the Treasure Room. I'll make an order it be done right away." He knelt on the cot to get close enough to the mirror to cover it. But, for a second, he lost his balance and used his hand to steady himself—touching the velvet cot with his bare hand. There was an electric shock that ran through him and the mirror flickered into life.

"Oh, no you don't." Murata put a hand to his fuzzy head, regardless.

With a flip of the material, he covered the mirror and, then, the cot with the tapestries again.

"Um…excuse me? Do you need any help, Geika?" a guard asked. Then, he noticed the mirror. "What exactly…?"

"Ah, I'm glad that you asked. My two companions in here never bothered." He smiled widely. "I would have told them that this mirror was constructed as a weapon but arrived as a magical "gift" powered with rare esoteric stones and exceptional quality, mystic purple yew wood from the human lands." He raked his hair back with his fingers, feeling smug. "On the surface, the mirror was a simple gift from Big Cimaron to the Third Maou of Shin Makoku. But, in time, it drove the maou mad and he, in turn, murdered all of his advisors one night in their beds."

"That's horrible!" the guard gasped, feeling wary of the cloth-covered mirror.

Murata grinned at him. "But, the most interesting part of it is…the mirror always lies."


End file.
